


Empath

by sinemoras09



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-07
Updated: 2008-03-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 10:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4517808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinemoras09/pseuds/sinemoras09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of oneshots about Claude's time in Primatech.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"We need to get closer!" Bennet says. "Go invisible, see if you can tranq her!" But Claude already made the switch; he's running after her, fast as he can, the tranquilizer gun banging at his side.

The empath whirls around. "Leave me _alone_!" she says, and she throws her hands up; the chain fence around them wrenches free and goes hurtling toward them. Bennet dives forward and tumbles on the ground.

Still invisible, Claude whips out his tranquilizer gun and fires. The darts only stay invisible for a moment: it's not long enough, the empath evades them easily. Claude keeps running but the empath is faster; he shoots wildly, the darts scattering around her like leaves.

Claude's tranq gun runs out of cartridges. "Shit!" Claude says. He throws the gun to the ground. 

"I'm out of cartridges!" Claude says. A garbage can flies past his shoulder. "Bloody hell!"

"Use the gun!" Bennet says.

"This isn't a kill order!" Claude says.

"Just use the gun!" Bennet says. Suddenly he whips out his own gun and fires. Bullets smash into the empath's kneecap. The empath crumbles on the ground.

Bennet reholsters his gun and walks toward the empath, who's clutching her knee. The girl crouches low, then slowly gets back on her feet. She looks at Bennet and smiles. Then she becomes invisible. She turns and runs into Claude, who looks at her straight in the eye.

"Sorry love, not this time," Claude says, and he injects her in the arm. 

 

*****

 

Sandra was getting mad because of all the weekends Bennet was doing at the office, so Bennet and Claude had to do the paperwork in Bennet's den in the basement. It's a Sunday afternoon: Sandra is fussing about the kitchen while the kids toddle around her ankles. "There's lemonade in the fridge, Claude," Sandra says. "Feel free to help yourself." 

In the den, Claude leans against Bennet's desk, watching Bennet write. Claude was never the paper-pushing type, and Bennet shows a certain flair for documentation. Really, he's just there for moral support. "How many abilities did she manifest? Three?" Bennet asks. "And that thing with the fence--would you say that was telekinesis, or was she manipulating metal?"

"Fuck if I know, just put whatever you want, it's not as if anyone actually reads these things," Claude says. Bennet chews on his pencil.

"I'm going to put TK slash metal manip, with a question mark," Bennet says. He writes it down with a flourish. "There. And now we just have to figure out how many tranq cartridges were discharged before we switched to bullets...."

"Noah? Claude?" Sandra's voice carries from upstairs. "You boys okay down there?" 

Bennet quickly turns the papers over. "We're fine," Bennet says. Sandra walks down the stairs and into the den, squinting and rubbing her arms.

"Oh my Lord, why don't y'all come up to the kitchen? It's so dark in here, you'll be straining your eyes," Sandra says. 

"We're fine, we're almost done," Bennet says. 

"Well dinner's almost ready, so I expect you boys to take a break," Sandra says. "And Claude, you're not leaving, I set an extra place for you already, so I expect you to stay."

"Is it taco night?" Claude asks. 

"It most certainly is," Sandra says. She turns to Bennet. "Don't work too hard, now," she says. She winks at Claude and walks back up the stairs.

 

*****

 

The empath is doped up on glycimerine, but she's still dangerous. The girl is a human sponge, soaking up everything and anything around her. As a precaution, she's bound and blindfolded, and the Haitian stands guard by her cell. But the empath still can speak, and she slowly rolls her head like a bloody temple oracle. Thompson flips through her chart while Bennet and Claude watch her silently.

The empath takes on Claude's accent. "I saw this fantastic novelty pen in the airport gift shop, yesterday. It had a little lady on the cap, and when you shook it up and down her clothes fell off," the empath says. 

"What the fuck is that? I thought you're supposed to be blocking her," Claude says. The Haitian shrugs, elegantly. The empath cocks her head toward Bennet.

"Now, you look like someone's done kicked your puppy," the empath says. She sounds like Sandra, now. "What's wrong, honey? See something you don't like?" Bennet looks rattled. The empath grins and turns toward the Haitian. "I know what you're thinking," she says. The Haitian looks non-plussed. 

"I've seen enough," Thompson says, and he motions for Claude and Bennet to follow him. "She's even manifesting non-abilities, tapping into your memories. She's too dangerous to release." 

"Can she control it?" Bennet asks.

"It doesn't matter if she can control it, she's dangerous," Thompson says. "I'll run this by Bob in the morning, but my guess is he'll authorize more tests. After that--"

"He's gonna kill her," Claude says. Thompson and Bennet turn around. "You're gonna authorize more tests and then you're gonna kill her."

"No one said anything about killing," Thompson says.

Claude opens his mouth, but Bennet cuts in. "I heard we have an arrival from Newark. What's the ETA?"

Thompson gives Claude a look, then turns to Bennet. "They're estimating two, three hours," Thompson says. "Hank's already got the cell prepared, we're just waiting for the subject to come in." He shoots a look at Claude. "Watch yourself," Thompson says, and he opens the door and leaves.

 

*****

 

When the new arrival comes, Claude switches to invisibility and goes back to the empath's cell. The girl is still slumped in a chair, blindfolded. He glances at the Haitian, sitting at the end of the hall. As a matter of course, the Haitian selectively allows registered Specials to move about the facility with their powers intact: he probably thinks Claude is with the others. Claude easily sneaks by him and rounds the corner where the door to the girl's cell is located. Still invisible, he enters the cell. Claude can't save her, but he can give her the means by which she can escape the torture: a small vial of cyanide tablets, which he slips into her hand. 

The next day, Claude bumps into Thompson, who's on his way to the girl's cell.

"Claude, I need a word with you."

"Fuck off," Claude says, and he switches to invisibility. Fucking bureaucrats. Claude has had enough of them.

 

*****

 

Claude is walking down the hallway when Bennet grabs him by the lapels of his jacket. He shoves Claude against the wall.

"What the hell was that?" Bennet asks.

"What the hell was what?" Claude asks. Bennet lets him go.

"Don't give me that, I know what you did," Bennet says. "I saw you slip that girl cyanide. You're lucky I got to the security feed before they did, people are _terminated_ for less."

"They're not terminating me, I'm their prize dog. I'm the best they got," Claude says. "And anyway, she's dead now, so it doesn't even matter."

"They're watching you," Bennet says. "On the next assignment, I'm supposed to make sure you're in line."

"I've never dumped out on an assignment, friend, and I resent the implication," Claude says.

"I'm only saying this once," Bennet says. "Watch your back. Because I can only do so much before you get caught."

"No one's catching me, there's nothing to catch," Claude says, and he becomes invisible. He walks down the hall, keeping his back turned so he doesn't have to see that worried look on Bennet's face. 

Outside, Claude snaps up a bottle of vodka and sits down on a park bench. He takes a swig and watches a group of children flying kites. As they run, their feet kick up dust in the brown grass, and for the first time in years, Claude finds himself missing London. "Bloody hell," Claude says, and he takes another swig. The muscles in his shoulder tenses, and when Claude reaches up to rub his neck, he feels his tracker underneath his fingers.

 

*****

 

"Claude? My heavens, what are you doing here?"

Sandra stands by the door, looking positively bewildered. "Is Noah okay?" Sandra asks. Claude gestures vaguely.

"He's fine," Claude says. "I was just wondering if you needed help with the kids?"

Sandra opens the door wider. "They're watching cartoons, you can come in if you like," Sandra says. She lets him in. In the living room, Claude sits next to Lyle, who's pushing a toy truck on the floor. "You like that, do you?" Claude asks. He picks Lyle up and sets him in his lap. Lyle giggles and hugs the truck to his chest.

Sandra sits down next to him. "You'll make a great father someday," Sandra says. 

"Oh, I don't know about that," Claude says. He scratches his neck self-consciously. He wishes he could tell Sandra how he broke into the girl's cell, and how he pulled out the vial of cyanide and pressed it into the girl's hands. "If it gets to be too much," Claude said, and the girl smiled. She spoke in Claude's accent.

"Right good Samaritan you are, when you want to be," the girl said. Claude frowned and quickly tied her blindfold back on. 

That night, the doctor issued a report stating that the girl's heart had stopped. But no matter, they had Adam's blood on hand, more than enough to reverse the effects of the cyanide. Claude forwarded through hours and hours of security tape, watching the tests and girl's face wrench in pain: they killed her after they were done.

Claude pulled the tape out and tossed it in the garbage. Then he walked to Sandra's house, as it was the only alternative to getting smashed and quite possibly shoving a gun against Thompson's fat head. Either way it wouldn't have been a good idea.

"Would you like some iced tea? I just brewed a fresh batch," Sandra says.

"I'll take a hot one if you have it," Claude says. Sandra smiles.

"Well sure, I'll put it on the stove," Sandra says, and Claude smiles wanly: it almost feels like home.


	2. Office

Invisible, Claude yanks open one of Thompson's file cabinets and starts rifling through the folders. _Pyrokinesis. Telekinesis. Unclassified._ He stops at the fifth "Unclassified" file and pulls out the folder. 

Thompson's door opens.

Claude shoves the folder back and closes the drawer, pressing his back against the corner of the room. Thompson walks past him, oblivious. He sits down at his desk and clicks on the intercom.

"Noah, I need to see you. Come into my office, it's urgent."

Fantastic. Now he's going to be stuck listening to Thompson natter about mission details. Claude watches as Thompson adjusts a paperweight on his desk before pulling out a comb and straightening his hair; he secretly hopes Bennet leaves the door open so he can make a swift and stealthy exit. 

Bennet raps his knuckles on the door and steps inside the office. Thompson puts the comb back in the drawer.

"Have a seat," Thompson says. "You did well at the last bag and tag. You captured an empath. We were quite impressed."

"Just following orders," Bennet says. Thompson grins, then leans forward.

"Well we just wanted to let you know that your hard work is paying off. You're rising quickly through the ranks. You're the Company superstar. Of course, there have been rumblings among the other employees. They're jealous. As well they should be: you're our go-to guy."

Thompson twists the paperweight on the desk; the light catches the glass and reflects off Thompson's hands.

"You've become a valuable asset, Noah," Thompson says. "It's a shame I can't say the same for your partner."

Claude's eyes widen. He glances at Bennet, catches that imperceptible flicker of confusion on Bennet's face.

"We have a security breach," Thompson says. "Someone's been purging our data. Months of tracking records, bloodwork, experimental outcomes. Even data collected on Adam Monroe. I can't imagine why--he's locked up--but it's reasonable to assume that whoever's doing this is giving this information out to someone else."

Thompson pulls out a manila envelope and empties the contents onto the desk. 

"Do you know what these are?" Thompson asks.

"They look like photographs," Bennet says. 

"They're stills from our surveillance tapes," Thompson says. "Go on. Look at them. Tell me what you see."

Claude watches as Bennet looks at Thompson doubtfully, then slowly picks up the photographs. The photographs are dark, but in each one of them is a human-shaped white blob that stands out in the corners. And with each dark picture is a normal picture of the room, which looks completely empty. The time stamps are identical. 

Bennet seems to match Claude's panic. 

"You're speechless. I thought as much," Thompson says. "In case you haven't figured it out yet, you're looking at photographs taken by heat-sensitive security cameras we installed a couple months ago. And this white shape here? That's your partner, roaming Level III access facilities at 2 in the morning."

"This has to be a mistake," Bennet says.

"There's no mistake, we have the video to prove it," Thompson says.

"Claude wouldn't do this, he's loyal to the Company, he'd be risking too much," Bennet says.

"And just how many invisible men have access to these areas?" Thompson asks. "The Haitian blocks all abilities except for those under our employ. So tell me, Noah. If it's not Claude, who do you think it is?"

Thompson opens the drawer again and pulls out a computer print-out. Tracking coordinates. Instinctively, Claude reaches up and rubs the tracker on his neck. Thompson hands Bennet the files.

"They correlate," Thompson says, quietly. "Noah we have a mole in our midst. He's hiding someone. Going to great measures to try and keep that person's name off the registry. We need containment, and you're the one to do it. Can we trust you to do this?"

Bennet stares at the photographs, and Claude feels the palms of his hands start to sweat; he can hear everything in the room, the whirring of Thompson's ceiling fan, the ticking of the clock behind Thompson's desk. Even Thompson's paperweight seems to gleam just a little bit brighter in the dry heat. Bennet's face is pale. It's almost the same color as the office walls.

"Is this a kill order?" Bennet asks. 

Thompson shrugs, elegantly. "It's just standard procedure," Thompson says.

Bennet nods, dumbly. "I won't let you down," Bennet says. Thompson grins and claps him on the back.

"I thought not," Thompson says, and he rises and shows Bennet the door. 

The two men leave the office, and as soon as it's clear, Claude sneaks back outside. It's not until he's back at the park that he breaks his invisibility and throws up on the lawn. 

 

*****

 

It's nearly dark outside, and Claude can hear the crickets calling out from the dusty field. Claude sits heavily on the park bench and reaches into his coat. He pulls out the piece of paper, a ripped-out progress note he snatched from the "Unclassified" file over at Thompson's office, the same file which had originally been paperclipped to Adam Monroe's chart.

 _Claire Bennet. Questionable_.

Claude folds the paper back up and shoves it back into his coat pocket. Then he pulls out his flask and takes a swig. Half-drunk but still invisible, he staggers toward Bennet's house. He stands at the window and watches Sandra helping Lyle with his homework; in the kitchen, Claire is making a sandwich. She turns to face her father and smiles, licking the peanut butter off her hands.


	3. Frost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted separately as a oneshot. Adding this here for completeness' sake.

Claude is tired and Peter won't shut up. He keeps yapping about his brother and his family and wanting to save the world. 

Something explodes. Fantastic. Now they're gonna get bombed to death, too.

 

****

 

Word gets around that Bennet's dead. It's a shame, because Bennet had been doing a lot of good work these last few years: hiding specials and generally sticking it to The Man. 'Course, if you really get down to it, the real shame of it is that Claude should have been the one to stick it to him. 

There's just no justice in the world.

 

*****

 

Sandra doesn't remember him. Sandra doesn't know who the fuck he is.

"I think I can fix it," Peter says. "I have the Haitian's ability. I should be able to reverse it, too."

He does and Sandra's big blue eyes brighten with recognition.

Empaths _do_ have their uses, sometimes.

 

*****

 

Claude wonders how exactly Sandra and Peter are related. "We're not," Peter says. 

"Well she's Claire's mother," Claude says.

"Adoptive mother," Peter says.

"And you're Claire's uncle," Claude says. "You two are on the same generational line on the family tree. Maybe Sandra is your adoptive-sister. Or step-sister. Or something like that, once-removed. But then again, you're much too young," Claude says. "If Sandra and me are the big dogs, you'd be the fucking puppy."

Sandra starts laughing. Peter is not amused.

 

*****

 

One of the most common problems trying to survive in the midst of a post-apocalyptic fallow is trying to find a halfway decent place to sleep.

They've slept in subway tunnels, an abandoned motel, a former crack den and beside the concrete support beams of a Jersey City overpass.

Peter finds an empty trashcan and fills it with newspaper. Then he uses his handy dandy firebending skills and sets the trashcan on fire.

Well at least they don't have to worry about getting cold.

 

*****

 

Somehow, Peter manages to find an abandoned house on the outskirts of the city. There's an electric generator and an underground well that provides running water. "We can't stay here long," Peter says. "Just a few nights and that's it. We have to keep moving." 

Sandra steps out into the snow and collects firewood while Claude rummages through the remains of the kitchen. There's alcohol in the cupboard and a loaf of non-moldy bread. Across from them, there's a living room with a couch and a coffee-table and a perfectly functioning television set. 

Claude approves. Nice to know Peter can come through, every once and a while.

 

****

 

Sandra sits perched on the couch, her hands clasped on her knees while the television flickers quietly. "This used to be Lyle's favorite," Sandra says. The light from the TV ghosts across her face. "He always liked those Kurosawa movies. I never knew anything about them, but Lyle. He always liked those ninjas," Sandra says.

 

*****

 

Sandra is crying again. Invisible, Claude enters her room to see if she's okay. She's not--she's crying in her sleep. Quickly, Claude drops his invisibility and shakes her roughly by the shoulders. "Sandra," Claude says, and he shakes her harder. "Sandra!"

Sandra jerks awake. "Claude," Sandra says. 

"You alright?" Claude asks.

"I'm fine," Sandra says. "I'm just....a little out of sorts. I'm fine, really." 

She reaches up and touches the side of her face; he can see the wetness edging around the corners of her eyes. 

"Well, how about a drink, then?" Claude asks. 

 

****

Claude finds out Sandra and bourbon do not mix. 

He gives her more, anyway. She needs more meat on her bones. 

 

****

 

It's not even a week before it's time to move on again. 

Light edges out from underneath the curtains, and Claude pauses, screwing the cap back on the bottle. "The fuck is that? It's midnight," Claude says.

Peter pulls the curtain back and peers out the window. "Headlights," Peter says. The trucks park outside and soldiers jump off onto the curb.

Claude pockets the booze. Bourbon's not gonna drink itself.

 

****

 

They're rummaging through an abandoned warehouse when Claude sees a coterie of soldiers rounding up a herd of specials into a van. But Sandra is there and so is Peter and Claude can't risk having them hurt. 

Lord knows Peter would be useless in a flash fight.

 

****

 

There's a scar on Claude's shoulder from the bullet wound where Bennet shot him, but it doesn't hurt too much. It mostly just itches, and Claude scratches at it occasionally when he's feeling aggravated.

"I can heal that, you know," Peter says one day.

Claude fixes his shirt and waves his hand. 

"Nah, don't bother," Claude says. "It gives the ladies something to worry on."

 

*****

 

It's almost Christmas and there's snow on the ground. Which is fine and all, but when Sandra and Peter curl up to sleep, Claude is left with a nagging uneasy feeling that he just can't shake. 

Before the war, Claude mostly spent the last few Christmases holed up in his room with nothing but his right hand and a collection of lovely adult entertainment to keep him company. The only real Christmases he spent were at the Bennets'. It didn't snow in Texas but that didn't stop them from hauling in a Christmas tree or stringing lights around the house. 

But Claude doesn't mind. Christmas is boring, anyway.

 

****

 

There's a gun on the table, and Claude watches Sandra pick it up absently. 

"That Bennet's?" Claude asks. Sandra looks up, startled.

"What?" Sandra asks. Claude cocks his head.

"That," Claude says. He motions toward the gun. "That's Bennet's old piece. I'd recognize it anywhere."

Sandra pushes the gun away. "I never liked guns," Sandra says. "I didn't think Noah liked them either, but....well I guess there was a lot I didn't know about him."

She looks sad and Claude doesn't like that. But Claude doesn't like a lot of things, so that's really nothing new.

 

****

The thing about Sandra Bennet is, she never lets on what she's really feeling. The world could be imploding and the planet could be bombed to shit, but Sandra would just keep on at it. Claude can't decide if she's a saint or a special in disguise.

 

*****

 

One night, Peter sits in and tries to mind-read during one of Sandra's nightmares. Claude thought it was a stupid idea, but Peter seemed to think it would help. So Claude stands watch while Peter sits perched by Sandra's bed, his face screwed up tight like he's about to lay an egg.

"Well?" Claude asks. Peter shakes his head.

"I can't access it. I'm just not good enough yet," Peter says.

It was just Claude's luck to be stuck with one of the world's most useless empaths. "I'm not useless," Peter says.

(He seems to be bloody good at reading minds, though.)

 

*****

 

They're being chased by soldiers and Peter's nowhere to be found. Sandra trips and Claude grabs her hand. They round a corner and he pushes her flat against the wall. 

They're invisible. He can feel Sandra breathing hard, her face muffled against his shirt. 

Soldiers run right past them. Then they stop. "Get out the infrared," someone says. 

They're slammed into the wall. Peter comes rushing out. 

Bloody empath. At least he shows up when you need him to.

 

*****

 

"Today is Lyle's birthday," Sandra says.

Claude looks up. As a rule, he doesn't talk about the children. He skirts around the topic, talks about the weather or the lack of food or the incessant fucking cannons that keep going off in the distance. 

"Well when we find him, we'll make sure to get him something belated, then," Claude says, simply.

Claude is smart enough not to say what all three of them know already.

 

*****

 

"Claude?" Sandra says.

"Yeah?" Claude says.

"Have I ever told you how Noah died?" Sandra says.

Claude is quiet. He sits down next to her, the bed creaking under his weight.

"He killed himself," Sandra says. "They brought in a telepath. He didn't want them to find out where he was hiding the others."

Claude nods. "I'm sorry," he says. Sandra bows her head.

"I miss him," Sandra says. "I miss my family. I can't do this anymore."

Sandra was always kind to him. Even when Bennet gave him shit for hanging around the house too long, Sandra never minded.

"Shh," Claude says. He moves closer and lets Sandra lean against him. She smells like sweat and rain.

 

*****

 

Claude tries not to think of Bennet. As far as worst moments go, _that_ was quite possibly one of the worst fucking moments Claude's ever experienced.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Peter asks. As if he can't just read his bloody fucking mind already.

"Shove off," Claude says. 

He tries to ignore the bewildered look on Sandra's face.

 

*****

 

Claude goes back and apologizes. 

Peter is good at not holding grudges.

 

****

 

They sell puppies on the black market, but people don't buy them for pets. With the war and the lack of transportation, getting proper meat is next to impossible, and people have resorted to slaughtering their prized pets in order to eat. 

Claude sees a brown puppy pawing at the cage. He's nice and fat and looks healthy all around. Claude steals him and lifts the entire cage right under everyone's noses.

"Oh my stars, who is _this_?" Sandra says. She grabs the puppy from Claude's arms. "Who is this beautiful boy? Does he have a mommy? Does he have a _mommy_? Oh Claude, thank you!"

He had saved the brown one, but let the other puppies go. 

The gents at the black market were most certainly pissed.

 

*****

 

Claude can't sleep, so he leaves the camp to secure the perimeter. When he comes back, he overhears Peter and Sandra talking about him. "What is it between you two, anyway?" Peter asks. "It's like you're attached to the hip. You don't need to read minds to know what's going on."

Sandra picks up the puppy and fondles his ears. "Claude and I are very good friends," Sandra says. "He used to work with Noah at the paper factory. Although, I suppose it wasn't really _paper_ they were working on. But you know what I mean. We were very good friends."

"I think he likes you," Peter says.

"What? Claude?" Sandra says.

"He's lonely, he has no one to talk to. Have you seen the way he looks at you? He normally doesn't care about anyone," Peter says. 

There is a lump in Claude's throat and he hates himself for it. Sandra starts playing with her wedding ring. She's lost weight, so it slides loosely on her finger. "Claude is a lovely man," Sandra says. "Any woman would be lucky to have him."

Claude turns and leaves. There could be intruders around the perimeter, after all.

 

*****

 

Peter starts calling the puppy Simon. "He looks like a Simon," Peter says. The puppy licks Peter's fingers and snuggles against his chest. "Yes, Simon, that's a good boy," Peter says. The puppy wags, yipping happily.

The one good thing about Simon, other than his burgeoning Attack Dog potential, is that he keeps Sandra company when she has her nightmares. Better than Claude ever has, anyway.

 

****

 

The terrorist Hiro Nakamura somehow manages to liberate a special holding facility just outside of New York City. Sandra is frantic. She pushes through the crowd, holding up a photograph. "Lyle Bennet?" Sandra says. "Have any of you seen Lyle Bennet?" Sandra doesn't ask about Claire because she already knows that Claire is dead.

Claude is there when Sandra collapses in a heap on the ground.

 

****

 

Claude leaves them on a Tuesday night. The air is cold and Peter and Sandra huddle up for warmth. Claude switches to invisibility and the puppy perks up its ears. It wriggles out from under Sandra's arm and trots after Claude.

"No," Claude says. "Stay."

The dog yips and wags its tail. "Stupid dog," Claude says. He scoops him up and sets him next to Sandra. The puppy yawns, then makes a half circle before curling up to sleep. 

Claude takes a moment to feel sorry for himself. Then he hitches up his coat and starts to leave.

 

****

 

Claude has never seen anyone cry so hard before. "Where did you go? Why did you leave? How could you do that to us?" Sandra says. Her face is blotchy and she beats her fists against his chest. "You stupid man! Do you know how worried I've been? You could have gotten yourself killed!"

It isn't quite the homecoming Claude had expected. It makes him happy nevertheless.

Sandra disappears to find food and Peter stares at him incredulously. "You were jealous? Over a _dog_?"

Fucking stupid bloody empaths. Worthless, the lot of them.

 

****

 

After Bennet shot Claude, Claude miraculously managed to stay invisible while he staggered toward a safe place in a cave just beyond the freeway overpass. It took quite a lot of concentration, and even though Claude was sure he was bleeding to death, a part of him was slightly surprised at the amount of control he was able to exercise over his ability. That night, he made his way to the Bennet household, if only to see the children one last time. Sandra was baking a casserole and Claire and Lyle were doing homework on the table. He was weak from the loss of blood, and when he leaned up against the tree, the branch broke from underneath him.

Sandra looked up. "Honey?" she said. She set the dishtowel down and went up to the window. 

"What is it?" Bennet asked.

"I think I heard something," Sandra said. Bennet peered out into the dark. 

"It's nothing, just probably a raccoon," Bennet said. The doorbell rang. "Honey would you get that?" 

Sandra disappeared from the window. Claude had an uneasy feeling. Instinctively, he crouched low in the shadows. Something happened, then. His body began to materialize. Claude jerked upright: in the window, he could see The Haitian stepping inside.

 

****

 

"You know, for what it's worth, he didn't want to shoot you," Peter says.

"I haven't the slightest idea what the fuck you're talking about," Claude says. "Listen, mate, if you're going for oblique here, you're doing a bang-up job of it. Now if you excuse me, I need to take a piss." He stands up and starts to leave. 

"Hey," Peter says. He follows after him. "You know what I'm talking about. This is important. It's eating you up inside, you have to let it out."

"Right, and on with the psychoanalysis, then," Claude says. He tries to go invisible but can't. "And now you're tapping The Haitian. Fantastic." 

"You should tell her how you feel," Peter says. 

"How about this?" Claude asks, and he flips Peter the middle finger. "Eh? How's that for sharing my feelings? I think that's appropriate, don't you? Now, would you kindly fuck off and give me back my invisibility, please? I'd really appreciate it."

"Fine," Peter says, and Claude becomes invisible. It pisses him off that he has to deal with this horse shit on a day-to-day basis.

 

*****

 

There is a reason why Claude avoided people for so long. People suck. And that's a fact.

Claude can't decide if he's pissed off or terrified.

 

*****

 

The sun is starting to set, and Sandra is standing at the window. "I was angry at Noah for such a long time," she says. She takes off her wedding ring, which by now must be two sizes too big for her. "Angry at the things he did. Taking my memories and leaving us behind. But I know he did it for a good reason." She slips the ring back on. It glints slightly in the orange sunlight. "I hate this war," Sandra says. "I just want my life back."

Just beyond the horizon, bombs are beginning to fall. If this were a movie, one of those horrendously clichéd films that Peter undoubtedly used to watch, Claude would put his hand on Sandra's shoulder and lean her close, and in that shared moment find a connection. But this isn't a movie, they're standing in an abandoned motel where the wallpaper is peeling and specials are herded away like cattle. 

"Peter said you wanted to talk," Sandra says. "Is something wrong?"

Claude shakes his head. "Just the usual," Claude says. He turns and heads back into his room.


End file.
